


Last Train

by Inmyownwords92



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Pezberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inmyownwords92/pseuds/Inmyownwords92
Summary: "Everything about her has been playing on a loop inside your head like some horrible indie film. And you think it’s bullshit because it’s been months since she left you and you still can’t seem to let it go."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This came to mind while listening to Last Train by Dawn Golden hence the title. Thank you for taking the time to read and if you have feedback you'd like to share or just feelings then feel free to comment.

Your Netflix automatically queues up the next episode of Law & Order SVU and you can’t care to stop it. It’s 2am and you know you should go to bed, you have class early in the morning, but you’re so exhausted you can’t sleep. The last few days have been non-stop assignments and if you’re not spending all your brain power on theory and doing research papers, the rest of it is used on thinking about her. Everything about her has been playing on a loop inside your head like some horrible indie film. And you think it’s bullshit because it’s been months since she left you and you still can’t seem to let it go.

Elliot is on your TV screen yelling about something, as usual, when there’s a knock on your front door. You wonder who the hell it could be at this hour and you pray it isn’t Kurt again with some Vogue fashion emergency. Your brain can’t take another one of those this week. Although he is a little saner than to traipse into the New York cold and would more than likely send you a text; even though your friendship has been a little lacking lately. Everyone knows she got him in the break-up. 

Whoever it is knocks again so you sigh and remove yourself from the indentation in your couch to see who it is. You open the door and she’s on the other side. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the sight of her. It’s mainly from surprise but you’re not going to lie to yourself as if it isn’t because she still looks as breathtaking as ever.

“Rachel…what are you doing here?” There’s surprise and slight annoyance in your voice. She’s been plaguing your brain for days and now she has to show up at your door too? She at least has the decency to look sheepish as she glances at the dingy hardwood floor of your apartment building and then back to you.

“I was in the neighborhood.” It’s posed as more of a question than a statement and because you’re Santana you jump at it.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You ask the brunette with a raised eye brow and she sighs.

“I was in the neighborhood. Can I come in?” You’re silent as your heart hammers in your chest but you eventually move aside and let her in as your answer. She looks awkward and out of place standing in your living room. It only reminds you of the reason she does. Because she doesn’t belong here. Because she gave up ever being a natural placement in your life months ago. The silence that hangs between the two of you gets to be too much so you speak up.

“Again, I ask: what are you doing here?” You reiterate, this time letting the anger you still carry color your words.

“I wanted to see you. See how you were doing.” Rachel answers and you roll your eyes because it is so like her. Most of the time she does what she wants and you like that about her but not right now. Not when it’s at the cost of you keeping your shit together. You haven’t moved away from the front door and you aren’t sure you want to just yet.

“At two in the morning? That’s what phones are for. And I’m fine. Alive and doing great. You can go now.” You finish, referencing your front door but of course she doesn’t move to leave. She stands there in the middle of your fucking living room looking lost and you’ve never hated it more.

“I miss you.” It’s barely a whisper and you can hear her voice crack like a piano hitting a sour note. Your jaw clenches automatically at her words. She wouldn’t need to miss you if she had chosen to stick around.

“No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up here and act like this. It’s fucked up Rachel and you know that. You made the decision to leave so now you have to deal with that.” You tell her, voice shaking with emotion. You’re not gonna let her make this into something that you’re doing. You’re not gonna let her make this like you were the one who ruined things.

“I know Santana but I made a mistake…” You scoff because it’s classic Rachel. She messes up and expects that people are just going to let it slide because she didn’t mean to.

“A mistake is when you spend more than ten dollars on a t-shirt. What you did was intentional. For fuck’s sake Rachel, you told me you didn’t know if what you were feeling for me was real and that you wanted to try with him again. You made that decision not me!” You yell because it’s all too much for you. And you can’t believe she’s coming to you with this shit out of the blue. You haven’t heard from her for months and now suddenly, she’s made a mistake.

“I stand by what I said. It was a mistake. What I feel for you is real and so much more powerful than what I could ever feel for anyone else. I was just scared to admit it; to myself and to you.” Rachel admits and you falter a bit. She’s just said the words you wanted her to say for months now.

“Then you should have talked to me. You should have told me you were scared. And I know, I don’t have the best rap sheet for talking things out especially when they involve feelings but things were different with you.” You tell her and you don’t expect the burn of unshed tears but you feel it all the same. You don’t have the capacity to deal with this or her at the moment.

“Like they say, too little too late.” You tell her. 

“What do you want from me? I’ll do anything.” She asks, stepping closer to you with hands reaching out to touch. You clamp down on the instinct to back yourself into the door so she can’t. You already know it’s going to burn. She’s inches away from you, hands on your face.

“What do you want from me? What can I do?” She asks again and you swallow the lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. You shut your eyes to the tears that have pooled over.

“I want you to stop breaking my heart.” You croak before opening your eyes to look at her. You’ve never seen so much sadness in her and you must remind yourself that you didn’t cause this. She’s leaning in and you close your eyes again. She kisses you like this is the last time she’ll ever see you and you let it happen. You kiss her back because it might be. Rachel pushes you back into the door, her tongue moving in time with yours. You can taste the salt from tears mingling in the kiss and before she can snake her hands to your neck, sure enough into your hair, you pull away from her. You’re both panting heavily and the more you’re aware of her being pressed into you like she always use to be, the more your heart aches painfully. You finally remove her hands from your face and step around her, the need to put distance between the two of you grand. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your face with the sleeve of your shirt before you face her again.

“Are you still with him?” Her answer is silence and the silence is answer enough. You can’t help the scoff that escapes you.

“Santana…” You’ve never hated the way she says your name more than when she says it in that moment.

“I think you should go…” It’s weak at best but you’ve never meant it more.

“Please Santana just listen to me I’m in-” Rachel’s practically crying the words out but you cut her off before she can say what you think she’s about to say. What you know she’s about to say. Because if you let her say it, you’ll let her stay and you aren’t sure if you can handle disappointing yourself like that again.

“No, stop. I don’t want this anymore Rachel. So please, go back to your boyfriend and get very comfortable with not having me in your life. In any way. Because I’ve officially quit giving a fuck.” You really don’t mean that but you know these are the words that are going to get her to leave your apartment. So, you lace an air of finality to your words to drive the point home and you think she gets it because she opens her mouth to protest but shuts it just as quickly. Her tears are running freely and because you’re in love with her too, part of you wants nothing more than to comfort her but because you love yourself more, you don’t. Because you know you deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you no matter how scary, you don’t. She nods her head at you, letting you know she’s heard you loud and clear, before turning and leaving your apartment. 

You walk back over to your couch and deflate, trying your best to hold it together. It’s useless to try and you fall apart, sobbing, until you start to see tiny flecks of blue and orange from the morning breaking through your window. It’s 6am and you know you should go to bed, you have class in a few hours, but you’re so exhausted you can’t sleep. You’re gonna spend the next few days thinking about this and her. It’ll keep playing on a loop inside your head like some horrible indie film. The words you didn’t let her say will echo off the walls of your brain in her voice to make it seem like it was real. Like she always meant to say them. And you’re gonna think it’s bullshit because it’s been months since she left you and neither one of you can seem to let it go.


End file.
